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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24044770">No Storm</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersoakerx/pseuds/supersoakerx'>supersoakerx</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Logan Lucky (2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Clyde's a good man, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Subtle allusions to past abuse/violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:34:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,533</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24044770</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersoakerx/pseuds/supersoakerx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This was a request I received over on the Tumblr: RC has a previous bad experience, but Clyde shows her he's not that kind of man.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clyde Logan x Reader - Relationship, Clyde Logan x You, Clyde Logan/Reader, Clyde Logan/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>106</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>No Storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You’re up on your tip toes, craning your neck and reaching up as high as you can go to try and put the glasses away. Damn these high cabinets – Clyde’s probably the only person on the whole planet who can reach them.</p><p>Clyde… he was due home soon, and he’d been pulling longer and longer hours lately. ‘Must be gettin’ near summertime,’ he’d said before he left this afternoon: business always ticks up near summertime.</p><p>So, after staying over last night and Clyde being more than happy to come home to you again tonight, you’d just wanted to tidy a few things up, give him a nice clean warm space to come on back to.</p><p>It sounds like you’ve almost got the last glass nestled safe amongst the others, but that’s going by the sound of the glasses clinking together, rather than what you can actually see—which is next to nothing.</p><p>Then, it all happens so fast, there’s no <em>way</em> you could’ve stopped it.</p><p>You ease the glass in by the very tips of your fingers, the last of the rim almost completely on the shelf. Things are clinking and sliding, making room, when the cabinet door next to this one bursts open and something goes flying out, falls, knocks the counter and breaks onto the floor.</p><p>You freeze, heart thudding and threatening to leap out of your chest as your pulse batters loud in your ears.</p><p>Oh, <em>fuck</em>, no. <em>No.</em></p><p>You feel warm, heat rising in your chest, your neck.</p><p>No. <em>Shit.</em></p><p>You don’t even want to look and see what it is. Or rather, what it <em>was</em>. Before you <em>broke</em> it.</p><p>Your hands start to shake—just lightly, just a little—but they do, they tremble, this all making a sick, nauseous feeling rise in your gut and in your throat.</p><p>You turn your head slowly, drop back down off your tip toes slowly, bring a hand to steady yourself on the counter, <em>slowly.</em></p><p>And there it is.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>The stein he got, from his old buddies in the Special Forces.</p><p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p><p>Glass, emblazoned with the insignia of his unit, that they gave to him when he was discharged.</p><p>
  <em>No no no.</em>
</p><p>The handle—a clean, swift, remorseless break—laying not even a foot away from it.</p><p>Bile rises in your throat.</p><p>You drop to your hands and knees instantly, stray shards of glass be damned, and snatch up the handle and the now next to useless glass canister. You try to put it together, try to match it up, this way, that way, with cold, sweaty, tremoring hands. You know you can’t put it back together. You know nothing will come of it: what this was is gone forever now, thanks to you.</p><p>Stupid. <em>Stupid</em>.</p><p>Hot tears sting your eyes in your futile attempt to undo what you’ve done.</p><p>But you can’t, you won’t ever be able to, and Clyde… what will he say? What will he <em>do?</em></p><p>The dam floods. Tears spring from your eyes, hot and salty on your cheeks as your body shudders with sobs.</p><p>You clutch the broken pieces in your hands, squeezing them so tight you’re sure you could do even more damage.</p><p><em>Stop</em>.</p><p>You wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt, sniffle and snuffle, and make to get up off the ground when the door unlocks behind you.</p><p>Oh, no. Fucking <em>fuck</em>, no. You thought you had more <em>time</em>. <em>Shit!</em></p><p>“Where’s my darli-“ Clyde’s deep voice starts, and stops. Immediately, he’s alarmed.</p><p>You’re just sittin’ there, sittin’ on the floor of the kitchen on your knees, facing away from him, head dropped down and shoulders round and sagging. He hears your tiny, quick, shallow breaths in. “Sweetheart?” he tries, but you don’t move.</p><p>Panicking—freaking the fuck out on the inside—he takes a step closer, but stops immediately when he sees you shudder. Did you just jerk away from him?</p><p>He recoils a bit at that, doesn’t know what to do with that for a moment.</p><p>But it passes, and he speaks your name, so soft and quiet from his lips. “Look at me, darlin. Please.”</p><p>Heart pounding in your ears, you turn your head. It’s a shaky and jerky movement, and only about halfway to the side. “C-,” your breath catches, “Clyde?” Your voice is shaky, brittle.</p><p>“Yeah darlin?” You don’t see it, but his mouth is turned down in a pouting frown and his brow is all pinched up and in making creases in his forehead and his eyes… they’re just a little bit red-rimmed now.</p><p>You shuffle and turn in your spot on the ground, almost side-on to him. “I’m so sorry, Clyde.”</p><p>He blinks, registering what you’re holding in your hands. His heart sinks: but not for the glass, special as it was and still is to him. No, for you. He sighs, “oh darlin, c’m’ere.”</p><p>You shake your head vigorously, a fresh hot wave of tears threatening to crash over you.</p><p>“Come on now, come away from there, darlin.” He holds his hand out to you, wants to get you up and out the kitchen, wants to hold you so even if you’re cryin’, you’re in his arms when you do it.</p><p>You don’t move, so he takes a breath in and says, “I’m comin’ over, sweetheart. I’m gonna come sit by you.”</p><p>You take a shuddering breath, waiting for it. This is just the calm before the storm.</p><p>Clyde makes his steps short, gingerly stepping through the small space between you with this big body. He’s eyeing the floor for shards, plans how he’s gonna lift you up and carry you out the kitchen so you don’t accidentally tread on some somethin' sharp and hurt yourself.</p><p>He crouches down to your side, and you whisper, “I’m sorry, Clyde,” not able to meet his eyes.</p><p>His heart quakes in his chest. You’re pale, you don’t look well. Your eyes are puffy and bloodshot. Your chin trembling. He feels ‘em now, tears pricking at his eyes.</p><p>He takes a deep breath and drops his voice to a low murmur. “Sometimes things get broken,” he holds his arm out, takes his prosthetic off, and lays it on the floor, in that spot right where your eyes have been trained this whole time, “that don’t mean it ain’t still a whole thing, darlin.”</p><p>You study his metal arm, his words replaying in your mind. You look at him, his big brown eyes, white shot through with red, and his petal pink lips and long, shaggy hair, and… you wait. You wait. It doesn’t matter what he’s said: it’s coming, you know it.</p><p>But then, as you stare at him, it doesn’t. It doesn’t?</p><p>There’s no storm. No smacks of thunder or cracks of lightning as your gaze roams his face.</p><p>There’s just Clyde, and it… doesn’t make sense.</p><p>Where is the pelting rain, the battering winds, the rattle of the windows in the walls?</p><p>You bring your hands back to your lap, still clutching the pieces of the broke—no.</p><p>Still clutching the pieces of the stein. You look down at them, brow furrowed as you try to think through this, feeling slightly off-kilter. <em>No storm?</em></p><p>Clyde sees it in your face, sees your mind going a mile a minute, your thoughts almost <em>loud</em>. He places his big hand over top of both of yours, quieting your mind almost instantly. “Will ya let me hold ya, darlin?”</p><p>You glance up, look into his deep, sweet, honest eyes. <em>No storm</em>. Taking a shaky but steadying deep breath in, you nod and on the exhale you say, “yes, Clyde.”</p><p>His eyes shine, mouth pulled tight but breaking into a small smile. Warmth and light push through, break through, bloom in your chest.</p><p>He takes the glass pieces from your hands and places them up on the countertop. “Can ya stand?”</p><p>With your shaky legs he helps you up, steadies you, walks you out of the kitchen murmuring all kinds of sweet things, “can I carry ya? Don’t even have no shoes on. Be careful now, sweetheart, don’t hurt yourself.”</p><p>
  <strong>XXXX</strong>
</p><p>Somethin’s been tickin’ over in his mind, ever since you flinched away from him in the kitchen.</p><p>You’re nestled up into him on the couch, straddling one of his thighs and resting in the crook of his neck, arms wrapped around his sides. His big hand strokes long warm tracks up and down your back.</p><p>You’ve been sat like this for a little while now, just sitting and breathing and <em>being</em> together. Clyde feels you’ve settled, feels and hears your breathing even out. So, not stewing on it any longer, he nuzzles into your ear and says, “Darlin… you don’t have to say nothin’, but. I’d, Lord I’d just never hurt ya, sweetheart. Do ya know that? I only want to be sweet to ya, only ever sweet. I feel like I need to tell ya darlin I’d… I mean it, I’d never hurt ya, yer… yer m’ angel. I’ll always be sweet to ya, darlin, always.”</p><p>You lift your head up just slightly and your throat clicks. A beat passes. “Clyde-,”</p><p>“Ya don’t gotta say nothin’ darlin, if ya don’t want. Just,” he cards his fingers through your hair, tucks a piece behind your ear, “just hold me like you were, sweetheart.” You sink back down, melt back into him, and he whispers, “there y’are. Lemme hold on to ya too, darlin, lemme look after ya.”</p><p>That thing, that big black thing in your chest that light and warmth broke through before, cracks. It snaps and cracks in so many places, you think maybe, with Clyde… maybe he means i—</p><p>“Yer safe with me, darlin, I promise ya that. I promise.”</p><p>He does. He means it.</p><p>“I’ll take care of ya, darlin.” Clyde presses a kiss to your hair, lingers, breathing you in. “I will.”</p><p>You lean up and away from him, holding yourself up on his big sturdy chest. You scan his face, searching, but finding only… Clyde. Just Clyde.</p><p>And your heart melts. You wrap your arms up around him and press kisses into his neck, overwhelmed with emotions. Safety and warmth, unspoken forgiveness, patience, care and tenderness: these are all things Clyde gives you freely, willingly, without question or consequence and it—this—everything—it starts to make sense for you now. No storm, just Clyde.</p><p>Clyde gasps when you throw yourself up over him. As much as he might like to, as much as he loves your lips on his skin, he’d never take advantage of you in a vulnerable moment like this. He pulls away and clears his throat, clears the thoughts of your beautiful, naked body from his mind. It was not appropriate, not the gentlemanly thing to do right now.</p><p>“Sweetheart,” his hand cups your face, traces his thumb along your cheekbone, “plenty of time for that later—"</p><p>“No, I,” you start looking deep into his eyes. “I want this, Clyde.” You nuzzle in to his neck again, breathing into his skin between kisses, “I want you.”</p><p>“D-darlin,” Clyde tries, his body already responding to your lips against his better judgement, “I don’t think—”</p><p>“Yes,” you murmur, “Clyde, I want it. I know what I’m asking for and I want it.” You suck on his earlobe.</p><p>A shiver runs through him. “Nnnot here, darlin.” He pulls away, cradles your cheek in his hand again, looks deep into your eyes and says, “I’ll make love to you, darlin, but proper. Right, like you deserve. Not here.”</p><p>
  <strong>XXXX</strong>
</p><p>In Clyde’s bedroom, it’s hot. The air feels steamy, smells like desire.</p><p>You’ve undressed each other so enticingly slow, fingertips gliding and smoothing over each other’s hot skin. You’re standing, both completely bare and looking each other over, Clyde’s need for your body evident: prominent.</p><p>His gaze, clouded over with lust, bores into you. In two quick strides he closes the distance between you, wraps his hand around the back of your neck and kisses you, deep and long and so sensually, his tongue caressing yours, your lips, the roof of your mouth. He groans as he licks into your mouth and brushes his plush pink lips along yours, he feels you melt and he knows he’s got you good and ready for him.</p><p>He pulls away, hot breath panting over your face when he says, “are you sure, darlin?”</p><p>“Clyde, yes,” you breathe back, and capture his mouth in another searing kiss.</p><p>He walks you back to the bed, humming into your mouth as his fingers skim your skin. “Lay back for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs onto your lips, and you do.</p><p>Once you’re settled in all good and comfy, Clyde kisses you. He starts at your feet, your ankles. He crawls up the bed as his mouth trails up your legs, your thighs, your belly. He nuzzles into your breasts and kisses and sucks at the supple flesh there. Higher, more, he kisses over your chest and up your neck and then he breathes into your ear, “m’angel’s so beautiful.”</p><p>You gasp and arch into him, needing him now. “Please, Clyde. Baby, please,” you rock your hips, trying to get his swollen cock to rub against you <em>just</em> so.</p><p>He presses kisses to your neck, licking and gently sucking at your sensitive skin and relishing your little gasps and sighs. He snakes his arm under your neck, cradling you closer to him while his hand trails down between your legs, seeks you out and finds you wet and wanting for him.</p><p>He groans and draws you in for another kiss as his fingers slip up and down your folds, releasing your mouth to hear your moan when he rubs the pads of two fingers over your clit.</p><p>“Oh, Clyde,” you rock your hips onto his fingers, “yes, mmmh.”</p><p>“’s ‘at good, darlin?” he murmurs into your mouth, his eyes half-lidded and trained on your face, watching all your expressions of pleasure from above.</p><p>You hum and groan, and Clyde dips his index finger into your tight, wet heat. He can’t help but groan out, “oh yeehhs, sweetheart,” at the feel of you, and he starts rocking his hips against your side, searching for some—any—kind of friction.</p><p>“Mmm! Clyde,” you moan, and he crooks his finger inside you while he thumbs over your clit, “yes!”</p><p>Clyde’s head is swimming. You’re so hot and tight on his finger, so slippery too, he just <em>needs</em> you. “Oh darlin,” he dips his head down to your ear, kisses and sucks on your lobe and says, “I need to be inside ya. Can ya take another finger for me?”</p><p>You moan your assent, gladly, and Clyde slips a second finger in alongside the first, your pussy fluttering to accept it. He rocks his fingers and circles his thumb and he groans, drawing you into another kiss. It’s tender at first, soft, but then it’s deeper, harder, tongues swirling and teeth clashing and moaning into each other’s mouths as you buck your hips onto his hand.</p><p>Clyde breaks the kiss when he hears it, the slick wet sounds of your pussy. “You like it, darlin? ‘s this good for ya?”</p><p>You moan his name, “<em>yes</em> Clyde, yes,” but you need more, so you snake your hand down between your bodies and grip his aching cock, stroking gently. “Please Clyde, this, please.”</p><p>Clyde shudders and groans, thrusting into your fist, “I-I know, sweetheart, I’ll give it to ya.” Clyde withdraws his thick fingers from you so, so slowly, feeling every ridge inside you, “You can have it, darlin, just let me…”</p><p>He shifts and manoeuvres himself between your legs, using his arm underneath you lean up. He slicks up his cock with your arousal that coats his fingers, guides the swollen head until it’s <em>just</em> inside you and you gasp.</p><p>He braces himself with his other arm, his hand up by your head, flicks some of his hair out of his face and gazes deep into your eyes, “are you ready, darlin?”</p><p>Your pussy was already trying to suck the head of him in deeper, “I’m ready, baby. Please, now Clyde.”</p><p>He rolls his hips and groans, your pussy yielding to him and letting him in with no resistance, “oohhf-fuck, darlin, you’re so,” he withdraws, comes back, fills you again, “tiiihght, oh God.”</p><p>You gasp over his name, he feels so good, filling you out wonderfully with his thick, solid cock. “Clyde, Clyde,” you arch your back and wrap your legs around his hips he rolls into you, feeling pressure starting to coil deep in your gut.</p><p>Clyde murmurs, “oh m’ God, oh m’ God,” as he takes long, slow, deep drags in, and out, and in, and out, and over again. “M’ angel, you ffeel so-so-“</p><p>“Clyde please, faster,” you breathe, rocking your hips to meet his.</p><p>A choked groan leaves Clyde’s throat as he dips his head down to the crook of your neck and he <em>thrusts</em> into you, pistons his hips and makes you bounce under him with the force and the speed of it. He wanted to take his time, wanted to make it slow and long and good for ya... but maybe fast and hard are good for ya too.</p><p>“Clyde!” you cry out, his cock sheathing inside you with wet sloppy sounds. “<em>Oh my God</em>, you feel so fucking good Clyde.” His rhythm, the pace he set, he just knows your body so well and you feel that coiling heat crest, tighten.</p><p>“Aauhhh, darlin, yer lil pussy’s so wet,” he groans into your neck, grunting and huffing hard breaths with the exertion of fucking you right <em>just right</em>, “so tight ‘n’ wet, so ff-fuhh God.”</p><p>Your clit throbs, and you know what you need. Clyde does too.</p><p>He leans up on his hand again, so he can look over your whole face. “Go on, darlin, rub it,” he pants, “I’ll keep fuckin’ ya, til ya cum on me,” he groans, just the mention of it making his dick twitch as he pistons into you, “I won’t stop, just touch yer, yer little clit, darlin.”</p><p>You sigh and groan, dropping one leg off his hips and gripping the back of your knee, holding your leg back. The change in angle rips a deep, rumbling groan from Clyde’s chest as the slap of his skin on yours echoes in the room.</p><p>“Uh! Clyde!” you moan, your other hand snaking down between your bodies, fingertips running over your clit as he <em>slap-slap-slaps</em> into you with his big thick cock, so hard and full of a need to make it so good for you, so so good that you fall apart on it.</p><p>Clyde picks up his pace when he sees your hand trail down beneath him, the expression on your face changing into one of heightened pleasure. “That’s it, darlin, rub it j-just like that.”</p><p>The pleasure, pressure, is building and building and his grunts only spur you on, making you hotter and tighter on him as he fucks you deep and hard. “Clyde,” your breath hitches on his name, “Clyde I’m-“</p><p>“I know, sweetheart, whenever you want, whenever you want-“</p><p>“Clyde,” it’s a long, drawn out moan as your orgasm creeps up, and Clyde <em>groans</em>, deep and guttural when he feels your pussy seizing up on him.</p><p>“Ohhyeah, yer right there darlin I can feel it,” he puffs out, “feel yer ‘bout to break, darlin,” he drops his voice to a strained whisper, “just let go, angel, just let go.”</p><p>You damn near scream his name when you cum, blinding white shattering your vision as you squeeze and clench and clamp on him. Clyde fucks you through it, grunting and groaning and cussing at how impossibly <em>tight</em> you are.</p><p>“Darlin,” he pants, when he feels your spasms subside, “I can’t,” his thrusts are jerky, loosing rhythm, “your p-I’m gonna cum, darlin.”</p><p>You encourage him, you tell him to do it, to fill you up, to pump you full of-</p><p>He groans your name, shuddering and shaking as he hits his peak—still trying, so hard, to keep fucking you, pushing up so deep inside you with each spurt of cum he thinks he’d feel his cock in your belly if he felt around for it.</p><p>“Oh God,” he moans your name, over and over, getting ever softer and quieter until his hips slow and still, and he’s drained, with no more of his hot, thick cum to fuck into you.</p><p>It takes him a minute, takes him just a little while to see straight again, but you help him by trailing your hands up and down his broad, long, sweaty back. He’s still holding himself up, his arm starting to shake as he whispers into your ear how beautiful you are, how you’re his angel, how he’ll always take care of you.</p><p>He eases out of you and rolls your bodies, pulling you on top of himself and into his arms. He holds you, just holds you so close and near to his heart, listening to the soft rise and fall of your breath as you both drift gently off to a peaceful, contented sleep.</p>
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